It started because the mail got boring.
The Dewey DeciMail Club is one person, a kitchen table, and a book a month.
Everything that arrives at a house now is a bill, a flyer, or a box from a warehouse. The last thing I got that somebody had actually touched was a birthday card, and I kept it on the counter for a month. That is the entire idea. I wanted to make the thing I kept on the counter.
So every month I pick a book, read it properly, and make a small pile of things that belong next to it — an art print, a sticker, a piece of writing that only exists because of that book, a card with the questions I couldn’t stop chewing on. Then I put it in an envelope, seal it with wax, and walk the whole batch to the post office in one trip.
The book is not in the envelope
This is the part people ask about most, so it’s worth saying plainly: we don’t send the book. Get it from the library, buy it used, read it on your phone, or find it already on your shelf — I genuinely don’t mind which.
Two reasons. A book adds ten dollars and a pound of shipping to something that’s supposed to cost about what a sandwich costs. And picking your copy for you is the least interesting decision I could make on your behalf. What I’m actually making is everything around the reading.
How the volumes are numbered. Vol. 001.26 Oct is the first volume of 2026, mailed in October. The next is 002.26, and so on — filed in order, the way a library would want it.
Once, or every month — your call
You can order a single month and never hear from us again, or turn on auto-renew and have it arrive without thinking about it. Both are offered at checkout, and neither is the default I’m pushing you toward.
If you do auto-renew, I’ll write to you three days before each charge telling you what the book is. If it isn’t for you, one click skips that month — you don’t have to cancel and re-join, and skipping costs nothing. Cancelling outright is one click too, from any of those emails.
The closing date isn’t a scarcity trick either. It’s how I know how many prints to pull. Everything is made after orders close, in one run, which is the only way one person can do this without a warehouse.
What it actually looks like
Slower than you’d like, honestly. It goes out as ordinary stamped mail, which means five to fourteen days in the US, a couple of weeks or more elsewhere, and no tracking number to refresh. That is the trade for something that costs a stamp instead of a shipping label. If yours doesn’t turn up, I’ll send another — see refunds and replacements.
Most of the making ends up on TikTok and Instagram — packing runs, prints that didn’t make the cut, and a lot of wax.
Questions that this page didn’t answer go to the contact page. A real person reads it.